The Long Road
by manonthecross
Summary: One man attempts a journey that very well may be the key to saving the wastes. His journey will take him to places unknown and drive him to his breaking point. But what will he find at the end of his road? An old friend? a Savior? or a broken shell of a man? Oneshot. Will write new chapters if demanded.


The tunnels are dark. Filled with the noise of the once great structures falling to pieces above them. They are what's left of DC's metro system. They stretch as far as luxurious Tenpenny Tower, all the way into the dark heart of DC. They are not safe. Mutants of every kind stalk them.

Dark, full of rubble and debris, plenty of cover, places to hide, decent traffic from wastelanders looking for a way into DC. Raiders use them as killing grounds and thrown together hangouts.

I was hoping to get into DC without too much trouble. The only way to do that is to be quite. Not run in guns blazing, like a lot of the dead bodies that keep this place smelling fresh. That means knowing how to kill up close and quietly. Fortunately that's part of my job.

The smell down here could make a Deathclaw gag. 200 years of trash and death. At least its cooler down here. Not to mention quiet. Easy to hear something sneaking up on you in your sleep. Even the gentle creak of my steps echo for minutes.

The gates are still standing, complete with a shattered lock and chains rusted solid. "Glad I got a tetanus shot for this" gripping the wrought iron gate. Not that i need it, as i inspect my Advanced Riot Armor. If 200 years of civil unrest wont kill this armor i'd hope to think rusty nails aren't an issue.

I make my way down the subway tunnels, avoiding traps and explosives left over by 200 years of apocalyptic mayhem. As I rest to observe the station in my path, i gaze into the darkness that, for all i know goes on for a thousand miles. I've heard a thousand stories and have a few of my own, concerning the tunnels. Best get moving, i think to myself. The creak of my steps down the long immobile escalator send shutters down my spine. At the bottom of the steps i come across a stench of corpses not yet decomposed. I risk being spotted and turn on the night vision built into the visor of my helmet. The vision starts of weak revealing a man not 2 feet in front of me sitting calmly in a stone bench. His eyes have been gouged from his head leaving trails of blood flowing down a long sunken face. As my vision gains power it reveals similar atrociousness. Men and woman scattered throughout the station showing similar injuries.

I stand there half dumbstruck, half enraged. I calmly turn off the night vision setting, there's no need to see this. The whatever lives in this tunnel will receive no mercy. I step my way through the station quietly, and respectfully. As i reach the tracks i begin to pickup my pace. By the time I reach the next station i'm silent running, keeping a steady, careful, creeping, silence. After an hour my heart is beating from my chest, and my eardrums thunder. Ahead of me i see a glimmer of light. Beyond my better instincts i roam forward, towards the lights. As i approach i can hear muttering voices. I contain my rage. I cover myself behind an old rail car.

One thing stands out above all else. A man stands in my path. A raider without a doubt. The long dirty hair and patched together armor are a dead give away. Probably a lookout for a much larger group. He leans against a derailed train, smoking a cigarette. The embers, brighter with every drag, give him away. He's leaning against the same derelict train car making sneaking up on him risky.

I move carefully and quietly creep in the darkness, taking careful consideration of my footsteps, being mindful of anything that would betray me. I sprint the last few feet and deliver a hard blow to the temple, knocking him into the train car. I deliver a hard right hook into his solar plexus stunning him and leaving him gasping for air. I use both hands to grab him by his hair and bring his face into the concrete wall, over, and over, and over. Blood rushing down his face and staining the wall and ground. Finally I deliver the kill. My forearm in his throat against the wall. He doesn't struggle much. I bring my knife from its sheath, and drive it into his heart making a moist, thick sound.

He can no longer call for help as his lungs collapse and he falls to his knees. I hold him against the wall to keep him still and stare into his eyes. He tries to choke me but its barely worth trying. Gasping and jerking desperately. He finally starts to go limp and I lower him to the ground gently. He gargles one last time and falls silent. Light from the tunnel falls on his face. I take a good look and realize he can't be more than 18. His face is dirty and scared but his youth is undeniable.

Can't say I'm all that sorry for him though.

I sit next the body and mutter the prayer that my father taught me.

"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee. "

The least I can do for him after taking his life.

I take what's left of the mans cigarette and cross over into the darkness. I do a double take to make sure his friends aren't coming and head towards the gate.

Praying makes me feel better when its over. Helps me to make sense of all this. Something telling me that he died so that others may live. Though the feeling of dread and guilt never really stop. The younger ones bother me the most.

I tread lightly up the prewar escalator. Its rusty and creaks with every step no matter how lightly I tread. Like my mind always reminding me of my past. The area that lay before me consisted of a collapsed concrete bench in the middle of the platform and a long seated a large group of raiders. Maybe 7 plus automatic weapons, shotguns, large caliber handguns. One man stands out easily, 6 and a half feet tall,sitting at the head of the table and laughing hard.

"The only thing I love more than good psycho is a hot winning streak. Pay up losers" as he pours himself another shot from a large bottle.

I prepare to sidestep the group entirely. Planning on possible options. I back up against the concrete balcony and a large section gives weigh. The sound cause reverberations through the miles of tunnels.

The big raider was the first to jump up pushing the table aside. He quickly draws his 10mm handgun with the rest grabbing their own guns.  
"Spread out, find the fucker" he calmly ordered "I call first dibs on his shit" another answered "Yeah right after you blow me Clyde"  
"I said find the fucker!" Barked the big one again I dash between the benches, finding quick cover. The other raiders pause for a second to scan the area.

"He's over there" another one barks pointing directly at me.

The big one moves to my position with the look of murder in his eyes. I see no other option at this point. Stealth is no longer feasible. An open assault would have no chance. So I'm going to do the only thing that has a chance of working.

I fish a block of C4 from my pack and draw my .45 from its holster.

I take a deep breath to steady my nerves and make the sign of the cross with my sidearm.

I'm ready.

I toss the C4 into the group of raiders, breaking from cover at the same time running full sprint in the opposite direction of the raider group. Wilding firing my weapon, I manage to fire one clean shot through the big raiders center mass, knocking him to the floor. And satisfying me deeply. I leap over the side of the terminal into the station floor.

I hit the floor feet first and roll forward out of instinct. My pursuers lining up and fire from the elevated position. Quickly recovering I run for cover huddling next to the wall I used to kill a man with earlier. I reach for the detonator, my fingers groping air. I check my other pockets and finally my pack still under heavy fire.

All of the sudden I notice the familiar red button laying among the trash and concrete where I landed.

The raiders above stop for a second to recover and reload. "You two bring his fucking skull"

I figure luck is on my side today. I take another deep breath shove a fresh mag into my gun.

Now is my chance.

I run full sprint toward the detonator The group opens fire on me. Me returning fire. Bullets whipping at me, kicking up the ground around me. Dust clouds my vision and ricochets and chips of concrete tear at my exposed face. I see the red button not more than 6 feet away and make a final leap. Everything around me seems to slow as my fingers fall just short of the button as I breach the microscopic distance I feel a single painful moment just as I pressed the detonator.

The explosion is massive. Like with the light of a cloudless day. And the heat of a warm campfire. Comforting me. The shock wave hits me hard and throws me back into the darkness. Last thing I remember is hearing the break of bone and blood drenching my face.

I walk the path that others have made before me, into DC. Where in the dark center of the city my destination lies. A destination that may not be there at all. To meet a person who should have died a long time ago. For a purpose which died along with him.

The dream ushers me back into reality and the rest comes back in a slow haze.

How long has it been? It doesn't matter

I feel the warm blood rushing back to my extremities, pulling me back into consciousness. The dull ache washes over me and I take in my surroundings as they come. The terminal caved in from the center leaving a large hole in the floor. Parts of the ceiling collapsed with traces of sun leaking through. The raiders have been all but vaporized with body parts and blood in all corners of the tunnel. Slowly I make my way back to my feet putting most of my weight on the wall. My armor seems to have taken most of the force leaving me bruised but not broken.

The first intelligent thought I have is that the body of the man I killed is what stopped my from being thrown into the concrete wall. I walk over what's left of the stair case and see the sunlight . The second that the pain in my head is actually my left ear. One of the assholes put a .32 sized hole right through the lobe. I consider myself blessed, not lucky at this point.

I open the rusty gate and set my pack down. Feeling the sting of the sun on my new wound. The bullet hole in my ear. In one smooth motion I pull out my lighter and light the raiders cigarette. I take a drag and admire the sunset over the Washington monument.

"That's enough rest for today" I whisper. Throwing away the cigarette and wiping the rest of the dust off of my face. I take up my pack and start walking down the cracked road. With the sky turning light grey and sun falling fast I realize that ill need to stop for the night.

I think I know a place. 


End file.
